


The Dandy and the Clown

by RyanWritesStuff



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Angst, Classic Who, Gen, Happy Ending, Regeneration, Sad, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 14:56:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11969748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyanWritesStuff/pseuds/RyanWritesStuff
Summary: The Second Doctor, fresh off of an encounter with the Time Lords, finds himself in a hazy dreamscape with a hijacked TARDIS...who is the stranger he finds himself faced with?





	The Dandy and the Clown

**Author's Note:**

> The second story I'm posting along the theme of general Doctor-meets-Doctor regeneration shenanigans! I wrote this for Patrick Troughton's anniversary. Enjoy!

  “Hm?”

  The Doctor frowned, scratching his head before idly rubbing his hands together as was his custom.

  “Oh my giddy aunt, what’s this? What’s happened? Jamie? Jamie?! …Where am I?”

  He was taken aback by the answer his eyes gave him, he had to admit.

  As far as he could tell, the room he found himself in appeared to be a TARDIS console room, very similar to his own as a matter of fact. It was a Type-40, that much was certain, but it was somehow more _vivid_ than his own, with buttons in all manner of colours spread across the console in the centre. Even the time rotor was notably more colourful than the one he was familiar with.

  The small stand beside the doors was missing the usual great furry coat that typically ornamented it whenever the Doctor was in flight, he noticed. That more than anything was a sign that this was not his own trusty timeship.

  “So,” he said to himself as he often would when he was alone, “how did I get here? What was I _doing_?”

  The Doctor snapped his fingers and grinned. Mentally retracing his steps was a favourite pastime of his, and a most helpful one at that.

  “Ah yes, of course! I was making my way to Graverax with Jamie, we were off on a mission for the…for the Time Lords,” he said, his face falling into a frown once more.

  The Time Lords.

  The Time Lords had maintained control of his TARDIS for what felt like centuries. It had been long enough for his hair to turn grey, at least, he knew that much. Ever since that most bothersome affair with the War Chief and his armies, when the Doctor had called upon them to help (for the _best of reasons_ , as he consistently reminded himself whenever he felt bitter about the subject) they’d been running him into the ground. He was nothing more than another agent of theirs now, and for the Doctor this was nothing less than an outrage. But what choice did he have?

  Still, though. These missions were allowing him to spend more time with the friends he held dearest, with Jamie, Zoe, Victoria…that was worth any price.

  Where, then, had Jamie gone?

  “Simply doesn’t add up…perhaps the relative dimensional stabilisers have malfunctioned, sent me into an auxiliary console room. No, it’s more likely there’s been a temporary spacio-distortion loop, and I’ve been stranded in a slightly-different instant of space! Ah, it’s possible I’ve jumped a time track!”

  Rubbing his hands together once more as he theorised, he dashed to the console in the centre of the room, dozens of ideas and notions passing through his thoughts. Before he could get to work on his imagined problems, however, a voice interrupted him.

  “Unfortunately, old chap, none of those are correct.”

  It was a most prim and proper voice, mildly nasally but with a subtle hint of great authority behind it. That was a voice most people would listen to without question.

  The Doctor, not one of those people, started, looking up across the console.

  “…Who in _blazes_ are you?”

  “That’s a rather difficult question to answer, Doctor,” replied the figure on the other side of the room, standing casually as if he’d been meant to be there all along. He was tall and thin, resembling nothing so much as a foppish scarecrow, with rather luxurious curly white hair and a pointed nose. His clothing was extravagant and fashionable, making him look the picture of a gentleman and topped off by an opera cape. Quite the opposite of the Doctor himself, he thought, looking over his shabby, patchy clothing and faded bow-tie.

  “This…is this _your_ TARDIS? How did you bring me aboard? Answers, man, I demand answers immediately!”

  The man rolled his eyes, seemingly unfazed by the Doctor’s outburst.

  “This is not _my_ TARDIS, not yet at least. This isn’t even _your_ TARDIS. Calm yourself, you sound foolish!”

  “What? How _dare_ you speak to me in that way! Particularly about being foolish of all things, look at you! A dandy in a cape!”

  “Better a dandy than a clown,” the man replied, his hackles rising quite quickly, his hands now resting on the TARDIS console that sat between them. The Doctor’s expression showed his annoyance quite clearly. There was _something_ about this stranger that got under his skin, an indefinite _something_ that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

  “A clown! Says the pot to the kettle! Regardless, you still haven’t answered me. Who are you and what are you doing here? What am I doing here? Last I recall, I was on my way to Graverax with Jamie-”

  The stranger cut him off with a silent shake of his head, and for the first time the Doctor noted something cross his face other than quiet arrogance. He sighed, looking the Doctor right in the eyes.

  “No. Unfortunately, Doctor, you weren’t.”

  “Hm? What are you saying? Of course I was, I was right on my way there! Where _is_ Jamie in any case! Lovely boy but he’s always flicking the switches he shouldn’t, must find him!”

  “Jamie is home. Back in the highlands. He’s gone.”

  The Doctor paused, considering these words carefully. Despite their ridiculous nature, for the briefest moment he found himself somehow convinced…

  “Why, that’s absurd! We were just in the TARDIS, about to deal with something on Graverax…a Weeping Angel infestation, that’s it!”

  “That was months ago, Doctor. Not recent whatsoever,” the stranger replied.

  The Doctor stood stock-still for a short time. It _had_ been months ago, over a year in fact. He knew that now. He and Jamie had long ago dealt with Graverax, leaving the deadly stone assassin that had prowled the world’s surface as a statue in the planet’s most-visited garden, never to move again.

  Why had he forgotten that?

  Finding himself rather unsure as to how to deal with this man, he mulled his words over before speaking next.

  “Very well then, if you’re so omniscient, tell me. Where was I?”

  “In your TARDIS, approaching Earth.”

  “Earth! Ah, of course, Earth, yes! To collect Jamie or Victoria, no doubt! Perhaps a problem with that UNIT lot, eh?”

  The stranger shook his head once again.

  “No, not quite. Your time with Gallifrey is done. Your exile is beginning.”

  The impact of these words hit the Doctor like a slap in the face, or a bucket of ice-water. How could that be? Surely he’d have known…

  …and yet, he _did_ know. Clouded memories began to make their way to the surface the more the stranger talked. Memories of the windy Scottish mountains and a brief, stilted farewell to Jamie…it should have been different, but the Doctor couldn’t bear to extend it. Memories of returning to Gallifrey, where that _damned_ Castellan had announced his service was done, and that he would now begin his exile on Earth. Memories of…

  The Doctor’s head felt fuzzy all of a sudden. The stranger seemed aware of this, as indeed did the very console room they were standing in. It had begun to waver, as if the Doctor were observing it through water.

  “My exile has begun,” the Doctor said.

  “Yes,” the stranger replied simply.

  “…I’m regenerating, aren’t I?”

  “…Yes,” the stranger repeated.

  The Doctor focused on the stranger as best as he could, though he was beginning to feel so very weary, so very tired. He knew full well that this wasn’t the sort of tiredness that a simple nap could cure, however, but rather something more final.

  “…You?” the Doctor inquired, his thick bushy eyebrow twitching upwards at the man across from him.

  “Me,” the Doctor said with a smile back at him, nodding his head.

  The Doctors looked at each other in silence for what felt like an age, though in actual fact only a few seconds had passed. Eventually, the older of the two, the white-haired stranger, spoke again.

  “The TARDIS is homing in on Earth at this very moment, it’ll land soon no doubt. You should regenerate almost immediately on arrival, as a matter of fact. Timed it very well,” he said as though discussing nothing more interesting than the weather.

  “Exile…you’d best see that you don’t allow yourself to get lazy, do you hear me? This is going to be no holiday, I expect you to keep everything safe,” the Doctor said, his voice wavering almost imperceptibly as he did so. His future self smiled once again at him, a very kindly smile this time.

  “I could never do such a thing. Earth will be protected. Everything will, once I figure out how to break the limitations on the TARDIS.”

  “Oh yes, quite right, I forgot they’d done that. See that you do! I don’t want to be stuck there forever.”

  “I will. That’s a promise.”

  “Good. Good,” the Doctor replied, looking down at the floor and frowning, his hands rubbing together more frantically than ever. He felt insubstantial all of a sudden, as if he were fading away…come to think of it, he appeared to be doing just that. Everything he could see, the light itself, was dimming, getting gradually darker the longer he watched, and he knew exactly what that meant for him.

  “Keep them all safe. I’ll accept nothing less from you.”

  “Nor would I, Doctor. Nor would I. You know that”

  There was a long pause.

  It seemed to last an eternity.

  “…I believe I may be going now.”

  The face across from him nodded in a most sombre fashion, patting the TARDIS console idly as he did.

  “Yes, I think you are. Therefore, I believe I may be arriving any minute. I can only hope the regeneration trauma won’t be too bad…”

  The Doctor chuckled a quiet chuckle. He could barely see anything now, merely the faintest flickering of this new, unfamiliar console room…

  “This room, Doctor.”

  “Yes?”

  “Is this yours?”

  “Oh, I hadn’t considered that. Well, I suppose it must be, mustn’t it? Likely the TARDIS telepathic circuits feeding information to your- well, _our_ head and getting a little confused. Rather nice, I think!”

  The Doctor pondered this for a moment as the last of his vision faded away.

  “Hm. I don’t like it.”


End file.
